Square One
by In Pieces
Summary: AU. Whatever this so-called Vergil had to say to him would most likely fall on deaf ears because it was not going to fix the 19 years he spent wondering about him.


They were sitting face to face, separated only by the flimsy wooden table of his apartment. In front of him laid a plate full of burnt scrambled eggs and ham; and on the other side of the table, in front of the other man there was only a cold cup of coffee.

Nero wasn't hungry, but it gave him an odd satisfaction to see the expression on the man sitting across from him every time his fork collided with his ceramic plate, so he continued out of mere spite.

The man glared at him when he made a louder noise, but Nero pretended he didn't feel the penetrating stare. He was waiting for him to speak up, tell him to shut up or simply leave just so he could bring up everything that was buried deep within him, but the man said nothing. He bought the mug of cold coffee to his mouth and took a sip. If he was bothered by the overly bitter taste of the coffee, he didn't show it. Nero took a small sip of his own, savoring the sweetness of the milk and sugar; he made his father's coffee with three tablespoons of instant granules, boiling water and nothing else.

What were they supposed to do? They were past apologies and meaningful explanations. Whatever this so-called Vergil had to say to him would most likely fall on deaf ears because it was not going to fix the 19 years he spent wondering about him and his mother.

It was funny how his life changed so drastically in the past months. He saved Fortuna, got his girl back, and gained and uncle and a father.

He didn't mind Dante; even if he had his quirks there was something oddly pleasant about him. They got along, that was for sure, and Nero truly cherished the man's company. He felt at ease with him; he called him 'old man' and in returned Dante called him 'kid'. When he learned about their blood ties those things acquired a new meaning that didn't entirely feel forced, but rather felt like a complement to the trust they built in the few moments they were together. Nero liked that.

Vergil, on the other hand, was a completely different story. If it weren't for Dante, he would've never let him in. Dante let him know about Vergil, what he knew about his brother and, according to him, the interest he showed when he spoke about him. A part of Nero believed that, yet he was clouded by many questions that were left unanswered and that dismissed the thought of meeting up with his father.

Dante knew him well, apparently more than he originally believed because he knew that if he told him beforehand that his father was going to show up at his doorstep at 10 am to 'talk', he would've refused to let him in. Dante never told him they were twins; Nero only opened the door because he thought the man outside was Dante.

And now Kyrie became Dante's accomplice because she was the one put him in his current situation. She was the one that, with a smile, ushered him into the kitchen, got a mug out of the pantry and in a light manner told him to play nice and offer him coffee. Actually, she was the one that offered him coffee. Things would've been smoother if she didn't have to leave.

There were many things Nero wanted to ask him, yet he refused to go back to square one. He wasn't a little kid anymore; he didn't need to hear lame excuses, he didn't need to know the reasons, he didn't need to know if he felt the same way that he did, but there was something that he was eager to know:

"Why are you here?"

Vergil remained calm and composed even if Nero's tone had been harsh. His gaze was steady and puncturing. "You have something that belongs to me."

Nero laughed bitterly. Of course it was just a 'business' meeting. The thoughts nagging the back of him mind were wrong after all. The man didn't want to change a damn thing; he wanted to take Yamato back and leave, just as he did before.

Did it bother Nero? Perhaps. Maybe that was the reason his fists were clenched under the table. Vergil raised an eyebrow when Nero's Devil Trigger began to glow, and slowly the handle of Yamato began to stick out from his blue flesh. Frowning, Nero started to slowly pull it out, adjusting his mind to the hollowness that left a tingling sensation inside of him. He let the sword down on the table with the tip almost grazing the cup of coffee in front of his father.

Nero pushed his chair back with his feet, letting the legs slide with a high-pitched noise and making the tableware tremble slightly. "You can show yourself out if that's all you wanted to talk about."

Nero turned his back and walked over to his bedroom. When he turned the doorknob of his room, he heard the front door close.

For once, he realized that things were better off without a fight.

* * *

><p>Nero unlocked the door of his apartment and kicked it to open it. He sighed when he spotted the figure lying on his couch lazily flipping the channels with the remote controller.<p>

"What the hell are you doing here?" He wasn't even going to ask how he managed to get in; in all honesty he didn't care too much about it.

"Nothing much, just visiting my favorite nephew."

Nero raised an eyebrow and then frowned. "No." He knew what this was all about. He wanted out; he never agreed to do the damn thing and when he started to get used with the idea he screw it up. "He's an asshole."

"Like two peas in a pod." Dante replied with a smirk. Nero glared at him feebly.

"He doesn't care and neither do I."

"He might not care about who you are, but rather what you are."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Thought you said you didn't care."

"Why do you even care?" Nero retorted with annoyance, "I'm his problem, not yours."

"I can't let him screw this up."

There was something odd in Dante's tone, something that Nero could quite put his finger on until the realization suddenly hit him: his brother was all he had left, and all Vergil had left were his brother and, even if it angered him to think about it, him. He saw the spark on Dante's eyes when he used Yamato; he originally believed it was out of resentment for using what didn't belong to him, but at the time he didn't know that Dante saw a part of his brother in him. He mentioned that the next time they saw each other after the Fortuna incident when Nero asked the true reason behind the man's reasoning of letting him have Yamato. Of course he wasn't going to allow that to go to waste.

"…What do you mean by what I am?" If Dante believed that his change of topic was ill placed, he didn't show it.

"You're his heir, the one thing he can ever leave behind. That was important for our father, and so is for him."

Nero wasn't sure what he was feeling at the time; he was upset that the one that was trying to make this right was Dante out of all people, but he knew that he owed him that much.

"Instead of talking to me you should be talking to him."

"I already did."

* * *

><p>This time, Nero just passed him a cup of boiling water and let him prepare his own coffee. Vergil didn't even look at the mug. When Nero asked him about it, he said that he didn't need such things. Nero shrugged it off and prepared his coffee stronger than usual, feeling that he needed that 'kick'.<p>

He could hear the clock above the stove clicking with every second, the sound of birds chirping outside and the muffled sound of passing people out of his window. It was an awkward silence, to say the least.

They didn't know each other, and he was sure as hell that neither of them cared enough to make the first move. What were they supposed to talk about? Why he came back? If he truly gave a damn? This was starting to become repetitive and they knew it damn well. But, they also couldn't sit there for an hour staring at nothing.

Should he start a conversation? Nero wasn't sure he wanted to take that first step. He wasn't even sure the other man wanted to actually have a conversation with him. Actually, he looked like he didn't want to talk with anyone.

"I gave you what you wanted. What else do you want from me?" When Vergil didn't speak up immediately, Nero's face twisted into an angry frown. He was just wasting his time with that man. They had nothing in common but their blood that Nero doubted he wanted in the first place. It had been both a gift and a curse, and now that he had his father in front of him he wanted to say everything he kept bottled up, yet there was something stopping him: a reason.

It was laughable how after all those years and their previous encounter he still needed something to unleash his thoughts, and it was even more laughable that Vergil wasn't giving him any of that.

"Dante spoke eagerly about you," Vergil said. Even if his words were the opener of what could be considered casual conversation, he didn't seem thrilled about it. "By what he mentioned, I expected you would react differently when I took Yamato."

There it was.

Nero let out a cynical laugh, but Vergil remained unfazed by his outburst. "So I'm just your new source of entertainment, huh? You can't even begin to imagine what I went through because of you." Nero paused after his voice became low and he felt his anger rise to his throat in a chocked up mess of hot fire and emotion. "I hated myself because I didn't know who I was or where I come from and you dare to come here 'just to see how I would react'. I'm sick and tired of all this bull-"

He couldn't describe the emotion etching across his father's face, that frown mixed with anger and a tad of disbelief as his eyes darted to what was in his hand. It didn't bring Nero joy or pleasure to see him like that, almost surrendering and ending the quarrel.

Realization hit him only when he glanced down at the object he was desperately holding in his right hand, the way the coarse texture of his Devil Bringer clashed against the rigged material of its handle and how his arm, almost mechanically, had elevated a couple of inches.

His expression softened before he dropped Yamato, letting it clash against the wooden table. He stared at the blade, confused, and after a few seconds he managed to hold his father's stare.

Oh, how the tables had turned.

* * *

><p>The next time they say each other it wasn't a talk over coffee about trivialities because, for the first time, they had something in common other than blood: they wanted to know why.<p>

The answer was as clear as water.

* * *

><p>Thank you so much for reading!<br>I haven't uploaded anything in a while so I really hope this can be read smoothly. I feel quite rusty.

Happy holidays! Hope you have a blast.


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